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The Blind Swordsman.

A tragedy... An abrupt departure... Death... And rebirth. Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword. A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond. It unveiled something, Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented.... A being who seems to weave the threads of fate. Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will? If he does exist, what purpose does he serve? Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him? If it is another's will, can he defy it? Can he turn his sword against his creator, A being who literally writes his reality? Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows, Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

_Eshwar_ · Hiện thực
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
276 Chs

[Gate]

A crowd of mindless people surrounded a globe of poison green haze at the other end of the village's market area, while a honey-brown haired young woman gazed at the scene in front of her in frustration, without even realising that her own actions were far more frustrating than the situation which she found out to be frustrating enough to make her remain unmoving.

As soon as the stretched out arms of the villagers touched the poison globe, their skin melted making them scream in anguish, but even then, they continued to attack the old man within the globe, who had a leisure smile on his face as he counted seconds in his mind.

'What should I do? What should I do!? What should I do!?' Faith asked herself as her bulged legs muscles twitched under her common cotton gown, as if ready to lunge her figure at the globe of poison that continued to revolve around its caster, who hid inside, at the other side of the market while she stood on the other end of it.